17. Chapter Seventeen - Reed
Reed - 9 Months Later
"Y ou really dropped the ball, didn't you?" Zoey asks amusedly, and my eyes dart to her, confused.
We're in a hospital room, the constant beeping of the machines she’s hooked to almost driving me crazy, the hard plastic chair making my butt hurt.
A lot has happened in the past months. Adam got a girlfriend and after a falling out with Jackson, things are starting to turn around. Suddenly, he’s not overworking himself anymore or riding my ass about helping out on short notice ‘for the sake of the company.’
No, now he’s actually unreachable after five, barring an absolute emergency. And all it took was getting Lily, his girlfriend, to kick his ass.
The four of us brothers were supposed to be on a trip to Amsterdam to mend the cracks in our relationship, while Zoey excused herself, saying she had to prepare for university exams.
I hate admitting he's right, but ever since Zoey left for university, it felt like the strings that kept us brothers together were starting to fray, each of us drifting in their own direction with no real incentive to keep in touch anymore. Hell, Jackson even moved to London to get some space.
So, Adam summoned us to Europe. Family trip, he'd called it, an attempt at fixing our family, and I have to hand it to him, I think it helped. A bit at least.
It was weird, being back in Europe. While not Paris, I still caught myself glancing over my shoulder, hoping every brunette walking past me might be Abby.
We had a fun time, hanging out with old friends and making some new ones, until Zoey decided to crash it, making us rush back to the states in a panic when Adam got a call that she was in the hospital.
"What are you talking about?" I raise an eyebrow at her. She groans, trying to reposition her arm that's in a cast and scoot up her bed so she can sit a little straighter.
"Hey, should I—?" I ask, already jumping up to help her.
"Don't you fucking dare," she hisses and glares at me before I can even take a step. "I don't need help for every single inch of movement. You all need to relax."
"We're just worried," I assure her, fighting the urge to jump up and fluff her pillow so she can lean against it better. “Cut us some slack, we thought you were about to die. Now, what do you mean?"
"Well, you could've been the first one coupled up, and now you're the last," she says as nonchalantly as though she’s telling me it’s raining outside and shoots me a wink. "I mean, Adam got together with Lily in the summer, Jackson found his girlfriend sometime after that—I'm still not so sure about their timeline, but I’m working on it. And now, Tanner is together with Luca's sister," she says, counting them off on her fingers.
"They’re not together,” I point out with a grim head shake. “Not now that he disappeared on her without a word."
Zoey rolls her eyes, reaching for a bottle of water, and I fight the urge to walk over and open it for her. "I swear to God, I love you guys, but sometimes you all have the emotional intelligence of a piece of bread."
"Hey," I protest weakly and cross my arms in front of my chest as I sit back down on the uncomfortable chair.
She takes a long sip of her water before giving me a long look. "You're still thinking about her, aren't you? Your Paris girl."
I return her curious look. Our family isn’t usually big on sharing thoughts or feelings. No, we bottle them up and let them brew until they’re about to explode. And only then we will talk about them, usually ending in a heated fight, sometimes with fists flying.
That’s the way it always was, at least. But then again, that's exactly what Adam is trying to fix.
So I take a deep breath and wipe my clammy palms on my jeans.
"Yeah," I admit softly, my hands starting to play with the hem of my shirt nervously. "Yeah, I do."
"So… are you still counting on the universe?" Amusement drips from her voice and when I glance at her, I see her lips stretch into a smile. “Or is it already time for my ‘I told you so?’”
“I might’ve done a thing or two to help the universe along,” I admit it, clearing my throat nervously and ignoring her giggle, turning into a groan when the movement makes her move her arm.
"Ouch.” She grimaces and the big brother in me wants to jump up again or call one of the nurses in for pain killers. Her narrow eyes keep me in my seat, though. “Don't make me beg for scraps here, Reed, what did you do?"
"I tried the good old Google route," I explain, shaking my head in disappointment. "Turns out, a lot of Abby’s live in London.”
"Yeah, who could’ve thought?" Zoey says, voice dripping with sarcasm, and I narrow my eyes at her.
“I scrolled through the first thousand of them before I gave up," I say, sticking out my tongue at her. "It was worth a try."
"Anything else?" She tries to cross her arms in front of her chest, until she remembers that one of them is in a cast. When I bite my lip to keep from chuckling, she shoots me a glare, so I quickly continue before she scolds me.
"Oh God, this is so dumb," I say, hiding my face behind my hand. "I tried to draw her so I could put her face into an image search."
"You tried to—?" Zoey’s eyes widen in disbelief before she schools her face again, the corners of her mouth twitching. "And did that work?"
"Obviously not." I shake my head and sigh.
"But you gave her your number, didn’t you? Did she never reach out?"
"No," I admit, my heart sinking. "And trust me, I've been racking my head over it. I was so sure she would.”
“Maybe her phone broke? But then again, she could also Google you," Zoey points out, tapping the fingers of her healthy hand against her cast.
"I suppose. But then again there’s the thing with my job."
She moves her arm and grimaces. I just know she tried to cross her arms over her chest again. "What about your job?"
"I… might not have told her everything," I admit, nervously scratching my neck. "For all she knew, I was a consultant."
"Consultant?" Zoey’s eyes widen, then she bursts into a giggle. "You? Consulting? Oh my God."
"Hey!" I look around for something small to throw at her. " Technically, I have knowledge. I could totally be a consultant if I wanted to."
"Well yes, of modeling, maybe, though that would put you more in ‘coach’ territory," she says, still amused. "And I’m sure you’d be damn good at it. But like, company consultant? With your measly business degree and no work experience in the field? Sorry, but that’s hilarious."
"Why, thank you. For believing in me," I say dryly, but it only makes her laugh harder.
“Have you considered that maybe she found out about your job, and well, everything—” she makes a vague gesture, “and became too overwhelmed to reach out?”
“No, I haven’t,” I say truthfully, pinching the bridge of my nose. I convinced myself that Abby saw more in me than Reed the model. “I can’t imagine it would make her look at me differently though.”
"Sure,” she says skeptically, and I gnaw on my lip. Fuck. I should have just asked for her number. “So what's your plan, lover boy? Are you giving up?"
"I don’t really know what other choice I have," I admit but Zoey shakes her head vehemently.
"God, you guys. Where’s the fucking creativity?" she says, narrowing her eyes in mock disappointment. "You could hire a PI."
"Because that wouldn’t be creepy at all," I reply, shaking my head.
"You could… Google her harder. " The corner of Zoey’s mouth twitches, betraying her amusement at the suggestion.
I’m almost ashamed to admit how much time I’ve already spent trying to find her online. But there’s nothing. I’ve combed through tagged photos from around the time we were in Paris, searched every angle I could think of. No social profiles that match what she told me. Nothing that even looks like her. And if I just search her first name, it’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack, her profile, if she even has one, getting lost in the masses.
“Do you have any picture of you two? Make a post searching for her?”
“Nope,” I say, popping the ‘p.’ “All pictures were on her phone. And please, Adam would probably behead me.”
"Well then…" Zoey says, seemingly deep in thought until suddenly, her face lights up. "You need to make another trip to Paris."
"Paris?" I raise an eyebrow. Is she on too many painkillers? "But she lives in London."
"Yeah, but she met you in Paris," Zoey points out, like she’s just solved a century-old riddle.
"That's… an idea," I say slowly, not quite convinced yet. "I could use another vacation."
"Please," Zoey scoffs. "You're just coming from one."
"Well, and you scared us so much, I could use another one right away," I say, narrowing my eyes at her.
She concedes with a small smile. "Make some use of all that money you’re earning and book a plane ticket already. Or call dibs on the jet. Go there on your ‘one-year anniversary.’" She lifts her hand for air quotes.
"I’m not sure. Do you really think she’s going to be there? If she couldn’t even get around to messaging me?"
"There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?"
I nod, a flicker of hope catching somewhere deep inside me, spreading a quiet warmth in my belly.
"You know what, Zoey?" I get up and make my way over to her bed, bending down to press a quick kiss to the side of her head. "Sometimes, you actually have the best ideas."
She punches me lightly on the arm at the word sometimes , rolling her eyes in mock offense.
"Just promise me you’ll name your firstborn after me if this works out," she demands with a smug little grin.
I shake my head, laughing under my breath.
God. Suddenly, spring can’t come soon enough.